


It Must Be a Dream

by RideBoldlyRide



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: And then you'll hate me., But please proceed with caution, Definitely painful, F/M, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), I chose no warnings for a reason, I don't know what else to tell you that won't give it all away., I don't want to give anything away, I hate myself, I know, I'll link them all when I get to the part that this would not be a spoiler, Kind of a spooky story., Megan this is all your fault, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Serious pain involved, Steambabies - Freeform, THIS ONE IS ROUGH, TW: Blood, That's the only warning I'm giving, This might be connected with one of my current stories, This starts off as sweet, Very Post Canon, angst challenge pt 2, but I'm not giving you more than that., non Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RideBoldlyRide/pseuds/RideBoldlyRide
Summary: What is real, except what we chose as reality?***It’s the crinkle of autumn leaves that drew him from the black. A corner of his lips curled up, and he cracked open an eye to meet amber ones encased in a small tan face, looking playfully down at him. Laughing, the little girl above him grabbed another handful of leaves and piled them up on his chest. It was a feather-weight, almost negligible, until from the opposite side, a crashing weight fell across his chest. A flash of red and gold, the other child collapsed into the pile of leaves, his weight surprisingly heavy, drawing a hiss of pain to Zuko’s lips. But when he glanced down at the glittering blue eyes looking back at him, he couldn’t bring himself to chastise him.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32
Collections: Zutara Spooky Angst Challenge 2020





	It Must Be a Dream

It’s the crinkle of autumn leaves that drew him from the black. A corner of his lips curled up, and he cracked open an eye to meet amber ones encased in a small tan face, looking playfully down at him. Laughing, the little girl above him grabbed another handful of leaves and piled them up on his chest. It was a feather-weight, almost negligible, until from the opposite side, a crashing weight fell across his chest. A flash of red and gold, the other child collapsed into the pile of leaves, his weight surprisingly heavy, drawing a hiss of pain to Zuko’s lips. But when he glanced down at the glittering blue eyes looking back at him, he couldn’t bring himself to chastise him.

Vaguely, he could make out a lilting voice calling across the garden, even though the words were muffled and indistinct. Both of the children’s heads popped up, and in the motion, something seemed to blur, like a dark shadow pulled behind them just a hair too slow. In that long second, their skin seemed to pale. 

With a blink and a shake of Zuko’s head the moment was quickly dispelled, even as the weight of the children was removed. He watched as both of them sped away from him and towards the source of the muted call. Pulling himself to his feet, he sat back to watch his family. A contented smile had pulled across his lips as the children plowed into the skirt of his Fire Lady, his wife, his healer, his Katara. Her laugh bounced around the green place, and he felt himself drawn to her, but he allowed his pace to slow, as if to stretch out this moment of joy. 

She turned to meet his gaze, and a matching smile stretched across her lips, a tender look in her eyes. He sees her start to say something, but it’s almost silent. A frown started on his brow, and he moved towards her a little quicker, but the sky darkened above them. With a roll of distant thunder, he turned his face to the clouds now hanging heavy with rain over him. 

The pitter-patter of rainfall flowed like a wave upon the pavers of the garden, from the direction his family sheltered towards him. As it reached his feet, and he noticed the thickness of the liquid - it seemed viscous, and when the first splatters of it reached his face, he trailed a finger through it. Withdrawing his finger, he studied it, and found himself surprised to see it clear and thin, no more than rain. 

Returning his gaze back to his family, he watched as Katara left the children under the cover of the portico, and walked out into the storm to meet him, a sad smile on her lips.

As she neared him, he felt the rain chill him, and he attempted to breathe his inner fire to flame, but it stuttered and struggled to stay alight. Panic tried to bubble up, but he couldn’t identify why. As the rain began to pummel, he watched the deep blue of her fabric darken where the rain met it, turning it a dark purple. At her waist, the tan band holding her robe in place blossomed with crimson. Abject horror began to sink into his bones, but her smile was as serenely sad as ever, and behind her, he glanced for the children but found the portico empty. His breath came hot and fast. 

Turning back to her, she hovered before him, but the blue white flash of lightning felt like fire across his back, and he bit back a cry. In its flash, he saw the line of red flash across her cheek, her brow, across her eye. Eyes milky and sightless, it was all gone as the light faded and the thunder rolled through. He gasped for breath, trying to understand what he saw.

It was thunder and lightning, rain and grass, pavers and tile shingles. It was blue eyes, tan skin, chiding calls, children’s laughter. 

It was smoke and fire, confusion and chaos, anger and fear. It was pleading and screams and sorrows and apologies. 

It was goodbyes. 

Every breath in his chest hurt, like a knife stuck between his ribs. Pain blossomed in his shoulders, and he was unable to move them, unable to release the tension. He fell to his knees and felt the cold wet pavers under them, but felt an impossible weight hold him there. 

He looked up at Katara, but even in the rain, he could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks. She towered over him now, her smile still broken. One of her hands rose, and ever so gently moved as if to cradle his married cheek. But the touch of her fingertips was like a flung fist, and he was thrown to the ground. 

A cry is at his lips, and when he reopens his eyes, the soft reds of the pavers in the garden are replaced with dank brown bricks. Blood drips from his lips, and a cry is on his tongue. His wrists are pinned away, his body pitched away from them. A glance down at his torso finds it covered in purple and blue, slashed through with lines of crimson. Through a muffled eardrum, he hears harsh voices, but their words are indistinct, and his head is full of cotton. A hand at the back of his hair pulls his head and gaze up to meet the older, but unmarred features so similar to his own. 

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself away from Ozai’s furious gaze.

That was the lie. It had to be. 

Real was Katara. Real was their children, the amber eyed girl, the blue eyed boy. Real was the dried leaves of autumn on his chest. Real was the rain on the pavers.

The grip on the back of his skull lessened, and when he reopened his eyes, he could feel her hands in his hair, could hear her hum an off-key melody, could see the pale oranges and yellows and creams of their room. Her hands fell to his shoulders, and ever so gently, he felt the touch of her lips on his temple. Muffled as her words were, he could just make them out as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Stay here with me, my love.”

He reached up and held where they crossed on his collarbone. 

“Forever.”


End file.
